Boating for Beginners (10 page)

'My friend Doris would be interested in that,' said Gloria. 'She's an organic philosopher and she believes that the true meaning of life is death.'

'That's very impressive,' agreed Marlene. 'But nonsense.'

'Well, what do you think is the meaning of life then?' asked Gloria, always eager now to compound her experience. Marlene took a deep breath and twirled a lime flower poetically. 'Truth is beauty and beauty truth, that's all we need to know.'

'Gosh,' said Gloria. 'Did you make that up?'

'Of course,' chirped Marlene. 'I am a very creative person.'

They walked together along the shaded pathways until Marlene saw by the sundial that it was time for her Aromatherapy. Til see you at tea time,' she waved as she darted away. 'Find out your room number and we can have long chats.'

Gloria hurried back to the dining room, hoping she wasn't late. She saw the famous novelist approaching, flanked by two leopards and now transformed to her usual elegant self. She greeted Gloria in her customary fashion, that is she almost suffocated her, and when they had become truly separate entities again, she offered to take her on a guided tour to help her settle in. 'There's so much to see, so much to do, no wonder I am so successful and popular.'

They set off-over the lawns. 'This is the famous spa which I'm sure you've read about. As you can see, it bubbles coloured water out of the bowels of the earth. This is an ancient place full of healing properties. We don't use medical science here, we use Nature's wisdom. Nature knows best,' and she bent down and scooped some of the water into her palm. 'The water of Life,' she murmured.

Gloria was respectful and hoped she made the right noises in the face of Bunny's enthusiasm. 'What's that?' she asked, pointing to a huge sandpit with a pair of mounds on either side.

'That,' stated Bunny proudly, 'is my patent cure for the obese. We cover them in a solution of honey and glycerine, then we let these trained ants out of their mounds to chew away the fat. I've never known this cure to fail, though it's not for anyone with a weak heart. I administer my other famous cure, the Vitamin E, immediately after treatment. Vitamin E was well known amongst the ancients as a cure for severe nibbling. I have cupboards full of letters from the once obese. I do market a kit for home use, but I don't take any responsibility for those who fail to read the instructions properly and find themselves eaten away. It's all in the proper use of the ants, you see.'

They continued past the gym and swimming pool, where Gloria caught sight of the pink winch, then Bunny Mix invited her in for a cup of elderflower tea and an explanation.

'We're doing this film, as you know, for the Glory of the Lord, so we do want everything to be as authentic as possible, otherwise we could just use a few cats and dogs and skimp on the rest. But Noah wants the animals to be exotic, so that people will want to come out of curiosity. I've got a list of things you'll be responsible for collecting, though as I have already mentioned you will have plenty of equipment and a few assistants. Time is the key, my dear. We're in a hurry. Noah will be holding the press conference later today and announcing the date of opening, so really, nothing must go wrong. I'm sure you understand.' Gloria nodded and Bunny stood up. 'I've ordered you a couple of artichokes stuffed with wholemeal toast — so good for the bowels — and then you must lie down and rest on this wonderful rafia couch I brought back from one of my reading tours. Exertion after eating affects the nervous system, and we do want to keep you in the pink.' She gave a little trill. 'Like me.'

Left alone, Gloria felt better. It was all reasonably straightforward. She could talk to Marlene and it would give her time to think. Ignoring the novelist's exhortations, she gobbled up her vegetables and went to look for her room. Looking in the register, she saw it was next door to Marlene's.

Gloria bounded up the stairs, found the room and knocked on the door. Marlene flung it open, wearing a bright pink silk dressing gown. She kissed Gloria on both cheeks and hurried her inside. 'Sit down, and tell me what you'll have: Scotch or Bourbon?'

'I thought this place was teetotal?'

'It is, but I don't see why I should suffer, do you? But if you don't drink in the day, don't worry about it.'

Truth was, Gloria never drank at all and although she was thirsty for new experiences, she had a hunch that drinking with Marlene might leave her speechless. Better wait. And so she declined.

Her hostess poured herself a generous shot into a tooth glass and they sat side by side on the bed. 'I'm dying of curiosity,' said Marlene. 'Did you talk to her? What did she say? What was she wearing?'

Gloria remembered Marlene's nervous compulsion to chatter and so she began very slowly, but left no gaps where Marlene might rush in and start another paragraph.

'She wants me to collect a list of animals and get them back on the film set as soon as possible. Noah has arranged his press conference for today, so there's no going back on his deadline. Oh, and it's for the Glory of the Unpronounceable; but we knew that.'

'Yes,' agreed Marlene, 'but what's on your list? Do you know?'

'Not yet. She's giving it to me later on. I don't start till tomorrow.'

'Well, if she says pigeons, refuse,' declared Marlene very emphatically.

Gloria was mystified. She sometimes fed pigeons, she got annoyed when they deposited on her, but she didn't feel passionate about them.

'Explain,' she demanded in her new, confident way.

'I can't explain as well as James Thurber, but I'll do my best. Pigeons are a totally nothing bird: ugly, squat, full of worms, always falling off roofs and shitting everywhere. No other thing in the world falls so far short of being able to do what it cannot do as a pigeon does. Right, those are facts; so why don't we just wipe them out, shoot them, gas them, have a national hunt week with prizes for the most dead? The point is, in some obscure, irrational, nonsensical way, we love them. There are pigeon protection leagues, pigeon enthusiast clubs, a magazine called the Pigeon Weekly. Old ladies who can't afford it buy them food, and eccentric but well-regarded novelists walk round with pairs of scissors in case they find one with thread caught round its feet. This is not commonplace behaviour; this is obsession. Do you know how much we spend each year cleaning pigeon shit off the most crucial of our national monuments? These aimless, awful birds have the power to conjure up the most violent emotions in the human breast. Our pigeon-consciousness is more advanced than our understanding of the oppression of minorities. We care about pigeons. You might not, I do not, but there is a giant existentialist network out there, thinking about and protecting pigeons everywhere from the disasters that should certainly befall them. We're talking about the world's most dangerous birds. Forget your bald eagles and your hoopoes, the fear of being carried off at night by a great Auk. It's the pigeon in the street you should be watching out for.'

Gloria was taken aback. She had never considered pigeons in quite the way Marlene had described, but she was willing to believe it was true, if not literally true. It clearly had a potent hold on her friend. She noticed a bird-cage hanging by the window, containing a pair of lovebirds. Would it be insensitive to mention them after Marlene had been so emotional? Probably, but this was her year of living dangerously.

'We could put these in our collection,' she suggested, walking over to the window.

Marlene roused herself from her pigeon-induced torpor and looked very aggrieved. 'We will not. They belong to me. Besides, they wouldn't be of any use to you.'

'The grey one seems a bit subdued,' said Gloria, rattling the bars.

'That's because it's stone dead,' sighed Marlene. 'It died of shock one night when we were watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I buried it, but the cat dug it up and so I decided it would be best to get it stuffed as company for the yellow one. They get on much better now. Before they were always fighting, and I hate fighting, it's so wearing. I wish I'd thought of it earlier. Still, best not to be a murderer if one can help it, I suppose.'

Gloria thought of her mother and father. They had certainly got on better once her father had sunk into the catatonic state that characterised his declining years. The less he exhibited signs of normal life, the more her mother seemed to enjoy his company. Often they had sat by the fire for a whole evening, her mother knitting and talking about life, her father just propped there, vacant; and at bedtime Mrs Munde would beam and say what a lovely time they had had.

Gloria told this to Marlene, who nodded wisely and commented that what most people love best is to talk to themselves, but since such activity is certifiable, the next best thing is to have a prop. There was a pause for reflection, then Marlene asked if she could help Gloria with her animals. 'With the aforementioned exception, that is.'

Gloria was pleased. 'We'll check with Bunny Mix in the morning, but I'm sure she'll agree. Why not?' And so they passed the rest of the day pleasantly, talking about Art and the Meaning of Life...

While Gloria and Marlene were getting to know each other better, Desi was discovering some very disturbing things. She had gone along to the press conference to help Noah generally slime his way through, but after her third Martini she was bored and felt like a bit of diversion. Rita and Sheila wanted to stay in case they met somebody useful, so Desi decided to explore. She hadn't been to Noah's house for a long time, and she knew he had a fine collection of mechanical paraphernalia because inventions were his hobby. Most of them, from what she could remember, were quaint and cute and fun to play with.

She set off to the library, and amused herself for a while with a fish tank full of motor-powered fan-tails, and a robot with a sledgehammer that cracked nuts. Then she noticed that what she had always assumed to be a bookcase was in fact a door, and it was slightly ajar. She stepped through it and closed it, as well as she could. She knew she shouldn't be there, but the heat and the drink had made her reckless. The passage was dimly lit and damp. Quietly she followed it and, noticing the steep decline, reckoned she must now be in the bowels of the house. Up above she could hear a muffled thundering which, she guessed, was the boiler room. She came to another door, and after listening for a moment, pushed at the handle. She had never seen anything quite like the room inside. There was a huge flat table, rusty in places, with heavy manacles hanging from either side. Above it was a device which resembled a large electric toaster.

'Shit,' she breathed. 'My father-in-law's into «S&M».' Then she noticed a bound manuscript lying on the table, about halfway open. Sitting down on the floor she began to read.

THE MANUSCRIPT

From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, have been my sole occupation. My attention is attracted by the structure of the human frame, and indeed any animal endued with life. Whence, I asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? To examine the causes of life we must first have recourse to death. I have become acquainted with the science of anatomy, but this is not sufficient. I must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body. I am forced to spend days and nights in vaults and charnel houses... After weeks of incredible fatigue, I have succeeded in discovering the cause of generation and life; nay, more, I have found it in my own kitchen. Searching for nourishment, I groped in the deepfreeze while outside a terrible thunderstorm split the heavens. Wearily I took out a slab of Black Forest Gâteau and a scoop of ice cream, not noticing in my feeble state that both were in a state of nauseating decomposition. As I picked up my spoon I glanced down at the filthy mess and, realising my error, turned to cast the substances into the bin. At that moment a fork of lightning shattered my window and blasted the plate in my hands. I dropped it and jumped back, thankful for my life. Then, before my eyes, a curious, frightful, intoxicating motion rocked the plate back and forth. I saw new life forms struggle their way to the surface of what had once been vile slime. The bolt of lightning, more powerful than any current I had yet generated, had sparked off vital cells from aimless bacteria. I rushed to where the plate lay, and cradling it in my arms, ran back to my laboratory. As I examined the life forms I imagined how it must have been, millions of years ago, when the same act had created the earth and all her inhabitants. Exhaustion stole away further investigation. My last act before falling into a senseless sleep was to turn off the deepfreeze so that I would have more of those precious bacteria...

I cannot continue; my calculations are incorrect. I have created beings, yes; but they, wretched creatures, are little more than imbeciles. I have taken dead bodies, filled them with bacterial charge: but either they explode, or they become nothing better than songbirds, hooting, grinning and calling after me. I am teaching them to play the spoons because I can think of no better occupation. Worst of all their skin has a sickly white hue, doubtless a sign of their origins. Perhaps I should have used less ice-cream? One of them I have tried to train as my cook, but his poor addled brain can produce nothing more than quantities of semolina. I lie awake at night, listening to their racket, unable to bring myself to destroy them...

I have very little money; all my profits are being eaten up by my obsession. I cannot even afford to repair my boats. When the warm weather comes I will set my creatures to selling ice cream on deck. A cruelty, but my work must go on... .

I am coming to hate the sight of a refrigerator. Last night, sleep-walking, I bumped into my deepfreeze and awoke crying for mercy. My eyes rolled wild in my head; I took an axe and tried to cut the vile thing down, but its enamel proved the defeater of me. I will never again eat frozen food...